


child of space, how sweet death has made you.

by dirtg0dz



Series: Mayhemanic ficlets [1]
Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Fan Adventures, Mayhemanic - Fandom
Genre: Character Death, Ficlet, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24950314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtg0dz/pseuds/dirtg0dz
Summary: sal ascends to godhood (but not before his death)
Series: Mayhemanic ficlets [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805719
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	child of space, how sweet death has made you.

**Author's Note:**

> read mayhemanic! link [here](https://mspfa.com/?s=35949&p=1)

Sal’s never been particularly attached to the world that he resides in.

Or. . . resided in? He’s in the Medium now, has been for a while. Long enough that he’s currently situated on his questbed.

Y’know, the thing he has to die on.

If you were to ask, he’d say he’s apathetic about this sort of thing. He gets to leave behind a world that has shown him nothing more than pain and suffering and hurt and guilt and -- 

He’s rambling again. Granted, it’s in his mind, but he’s still doing it.

Killing yourself is a huge thing, he thinks.

He never had the strength to do it before, obviously, because he was alive and breathing right now. He had always thought himself too weak, too small, too _pitiful_ to go through with it.

Maybe he was right? To only go through with the act of killing himself when he knew what’d happen after? He’d resurface as a god, right? He’d come back and as long as it wasn’t heroic or just, he wouldn’t be able to take the route of dying. He’s not sure if he’s able to go through with it if he thinks on it too much. Sure, he’d never actually killed himself but not having the _option_ to? It seems foreign, weird, all too much.

And yet.

And yet he still isn’t sure if he even deserves a chance like this.

To be a God. To be the creator of a universe that he had no right to create. Because it was _him_ who’d brought this all to them. Him, who stuck them into this foolish game with only the thought of leaving his pathetic life behind. Him, who’d put them all into this game with no discernable end. He’d convinced them all to play this stupid game and for what?   
  
Who gave him the right? To live where others could not? 

Sal’s never been particularly attached to the people in his world, not until now.

So why does it make him so angry? Why does he mourn for people he _knew_ would die? Why does he mourn for those who hurt him? _Why?_

He doesn’t realise that there are tears cascading down his face until his hands, bloodstained and trembling, reach up to his face. 

“If I’m going to do this, I’m going to make it hurt.” He says. “Gotta bleed out or something. Make sure that it hurts, because all of those people. They’re gone because of me.” His voice is quiet, pained.

He tenses his muscles, aware that it’ll feel worse if he does so.

The knife, something he’d been gifted by his ancestor, gleams as he moves it in the light. 

“You’ll know when you’re ready, Sal.” He had said. “Use it when the time is right.”

His eyes close, muscles tense, breathing harsh as panic fills his body. 

There’s a shout, a _scream_ as he plunges it into his stomach. It pierces the flesh beautifully, his blood streaming out. He can feel its warmth as it splatters against his body.

He grips the hilt of the blade, pulls it out and slams it back into himself.  
  
Bile rises in his throat. He doesn’t manage to swallow it back down, vomit mixing in with blood as it coats his clothes in it’s vile concoction. 

He sniffs, snot clogging his nose, pain clogging his senses, and twists the knife further into his gut. 

Sal doesn’t feel particularly attached to anything as pain washes over him, and yet there’s a whisper on his lips as he dies: “I’m sorry.”

.

  
  
(Was Gladio able to hear him? He doesn’t think so.)


End file.
